We are very different...

Yesterday, James and I ventured out in the yard to reinstall a honeysuckle support that had blown over during the rain and wind of the past few days. 

On the way out there, I noticed James looking at some really pretty purple flower "weeds" in the back yard. They've been thriving, even with the drought before the first rain we've gotten in over a month, and I've spot-mown because our septic leach field does spur some grass to grow in spots... but I've left the weeds because they're cool-looking and because they don't produce stickers!

James and I both took pictures of the weeds, and it wasn't until later when I was looking at something on my computer that I realized how different the pictures were.

Here's the photo that James snapped:

And here's the one that I took:

 

Now... some of this can be explained by the fact that I have more of a photographer's eye than James does. But I also think this might say something about how we see the world, though I'm not sure exactly how it applies across the board.

For instance: James's picture makes the alien flowers themself kind of challenging to see, but what comes through is that they're an anomaly. The rest of the ground cover is dormant from the heat and dryness. Whereas my picture shows the loveliness and focuses your attention there, where I want you to look. 

James and I were talking this morning about some pictures coming up in my Google Photos feed, and I mentioned that I can usually remember just by looking at a plate of food where it came from and what was going on at the time. James is someone who requires more information to hold on to memories. It's one reason he has so much stuff: That stuff pins his memories in place and he'd lose the memories without the prompts.

Very often when we're on a road trip (I always drive, a habit we got into when James was commuting a long way every day), James will take pictures of, say, wildflowers in the right-of-way or mountains in the distance without any framing whatsoever. He'll just point and shoot, capturing the door frame, the bird poop on the window, and hopefully the actual subject he was wanting to remember later. I'm much more curated. Unless it's so bright out that I can't really tell what I'm doing, I frame up shots. I move over a bit to make sure there's some greenery in the corner so the subject looks more lush. I'll move back and zoom in to fill up the background. 

Neither of those ways is better. They're just different. Just like James and me. And I think we make a great team!

Quick Photography Lesson

Mal and I went to Zilker Botanical Gardens today to tour their annual Woodland Faerie Gardens.

While we were there, I took a picture of him among some of the blooming flowers. It was cute, but I didn't think it did justice to what my eyes were seeing. This is that picture.

It's fine. He's a cutie! But also, it didn't reflect how we were absolutely swallowed by greenery everywhere were walked.

Then I remembered a photo trick I read about last year and used quite a bit on our California trip: Move back and zoom in.

I stepped back about 7 paces and zoomed in. Mal didn't move. Nothing else changed. Just moving back and zooming in, which brings the background closer in the frame.

Here's the second picture.

Oh yes, indeedy, you'd better believe it. 

"I think I'm going to start taking pictures of my clean folded laundry"

"It might seem crazy, wearing stripes and plaid. I Instagram every meal I've had." - Al Yankovic, "Tacky"

A friend of mine moved recently, and we've been keeping up via email and the occasional text. She'd offered me a one-off job, and when I responded that I really didn't have the time or energy to do it, I was kind of in a funk. Those have been happening on and off for the past year or more, and I'm thinking it might have to do with peri-menopause and hormones. Anyway, I sent her a link to our December pictures because we really did have some good times that month (we have good times every month, actually, of course).

When she responded, she said that she really enjoyed the pictures. "I especially loved seeing your food photos. They are proof that you are accomplishing things every day! I should do the same. Maybe I’ll also take photos of piles of folded laundry!"

My friend is literally the most encouraging person I know. After I'm around her, I always feel so lifted up and affirmed. So her sentiment was sweet, but I also don't think she (or maybe anyone else) understands why I take pictures of food. Maybe it IS because I'm "Tacky," although I don't IG my meals (probably only because Luke is the account-holder-of-record).

But long before social media was a thing, I've taken pictures of food. It started with when I'd eat at really nice restaurants, which wasn't often. Food is plated with care, and it's like a work of art. It's also ephemeral. So I like to capture the beauty of it before it's gone.

James spent hours working on his first bookshelf. He took pictures of each step to record the progress, he learned a lot, and the finished shelf is beautiful. We still have it. We will have it for years. Every time I make a meal, I spend time on it. I learn things when I cook. I produce something that is for my benefit, and often for the benefit of the entire family (except that ingrate, Mal, who only eats my desserts and never my actual meals). 

For me, I don't really take pictures of the food to remind myself that I accomplished a meal, though I suppose it will be a good reminder if I ever need one. It's because I delight in the aesthetics of a pretty, delicious plate (or bowl; or tumbler). I enjoy a tasty, fulfilling meal. Taking a picture of it means that once it's gone, I can still see the picture and remember that great serving of food.

I also take pictures of doughnuts, cakes, ice cream, pretty drinks, cool and weird candy I've never seen before. I mean, I take pictures of everything, actually. My family, nature, public art, weird stuff... This is primarily how I remember things. Every day, Google reminds me of thing that happened on this day last year, the year before, the year before that... And it's fun to see "Oh, yeah, we've been doing the vegetarian eMeals for almost a whole decade!" and "I'd forgotten that I made that cake for Valentine's last year!" and "Thank god Mal isn't a baby anymore!" 

I don't have as much visceral pleasure eating food as I used to, back when I was restricting. Back then, I would practically moan through a good meal or dessert. Now, I still appreciate it, but when you eat what you want, it all kind of stabilizes. Kind of like when you're generally happy, your highs aren't quite as high as they used to be, because you don't have super lows to bounce back from.

Anyway, here are some pictures of meals we've had in the past few weeks. Call me wacky, but I don't think I'd feel as happy about pictures of my balled-up socks.

Obviously, I didn't make these. Aren't they cute, though? Super tasty.

A veggie pancake I saw on TikTok.

Arepas I prepared after we watched "Encanto" a time or two.

Happy weekend and happy eating!

Photography and Sense of Self

The week before last, my dad started singing, "There's No Business Like Show Business," for some reason. It reminded me of the summer after I was in the 6th grade, when I was in a show at the King Opera House in Van Buren, AR. It was an all-ages musical review, loosely tied together with some flimsy narrative that I'm sure was pretty terrible.

For my bit, we kids were supposed to be siblings in a giant family. The lady who played our mom was actually extremely pregnant at the time. Someone had gotten a good deal on this bright pink fabric with blue... hippos? elephants? on it, and we all had some element of our costume made out of it. Mine was a flouncy-sleeved blouse, a littler girl had a dress, a male friend had a button-up shirt, the pregnant lady had a maternity jumper dress.

At one point in the show, my parents had bought me some cotton candy, and I was standing in the alley behind the opera house waiting for my cue. My dad took a picture, and I remember thinking how awesome my life was: I was getting to be in a real show (not school-related!), and I was eating cotton candy, and did life get any better than that?

Time passed, as we had to fill up the entire roll of film and then wait for it to be developed. You kids might not know what I'm talking about, but it could sometimes be months after a photo was taken before you could see it.

This is that picture.

As an adult, I think that's a super cute picture that captures a very fun time in my life. I believe the person standing partially in the frame is my friend and classmate Anna Williams; I think she was in a different part of the show than I was, but she has a body suit on in the same colors (there were blue sequins across the front).

As a kid seeing this photo of myself, I was heart-broken. I saw a fat (??!!?!?!!??) dork with huge glasses and frizzy hair that looked nothing like Amanda King's! (I'd gotten my long, straight hair cut off and a spiral perm so I could resemble Kate Jackson's iconic character, not realizing that I could not possibly have feathered hair without using styling implements, and I did not have the hardware nor the skills to pull that off.) I didn't even notice the farmer's tan at the time. I guess I didn't wear sleeveless tops as a kid.

This picture was absolute devastation to me at the time, and it was years -- decades, probably -- before I ever wanted to look at it again. For a long period, the photos associated with this program tainted its memory for me. I'm very sad about that part. I wish there were a way to go back and repair that.

It wasn't, however, the first time a picture of me had conflicted to strongly with my self-view. I vividly remember the first one, and it was years before this.

I was in second grade, and I was having a pretty good hair day. I'd grown my hair out extremely long, and had it cut by my Pepa, who was a barber. He'd cut my hair Dorothy-Hamill-short, and I didn't hate it, but once it started growing back out, I started to feel almost glamorous.

One night, after I was dressed for bed, I put on a bunch of my mom's necklaces and she let me wear some make-up, as well. I asked for her to take a picture of me as a model. In my brain was probably Brooke Sheilds. 

This, however, is the picture we got.

I forgive you for laughing, truly I do.

Again, I see now that this is precious. When I was seven, it made me HATE... something. I don't know what. Probably myself, or my self-denial. I couldn't even have put a name on the dissonance here, but when my mom took the picture, I felt pretty. When I saw it, I knew this wasn't even remotely close to what was in the magazines. 

I didn't even know what a "double chin" was, but for a long time wondered why my mom hadn't told me to lift my head up a little bit... but of course she didn't. You don't tell a child how to pose to eliminate that kind of thing because it is vapid and cruel, even if you mean well.

Growing up, I really liked myself. I thought I was neat, and talented, and even pretty at times. I got the message that I wasn't quite as ++something++ as other girls, but I liked my individuality. Heck, I even tried out for "Man in the Moon," Reese Witherspoon's debut film at the age of 14, when they did a southern open casting tour. I mean, who did I think I was? I thought I was something, but clearly "the world" didn't perceive me as I perceived myself. Even the camera didn't.

As I have been thinking about this, it has helped me be a lot more understanding as to why D doesn't like to look at old pictures. For me, those pictures are super happy memories of my kid's growing up. For D, they're jarring and upsetting. And I get this on some level.

Both of the above pictures were before I ever thought of going on a diet, even though I knew that I was fatter than other girls my age. I'm extremely grateful that dieting and weight loss wasn't a part of my life before I went to college. I might have detested the way I looked, but I guess it seemed like Weight Watchers and Herbalife supplements were something grown-ups did. Thank god there wasn't WW Kurbo when I was in elementary school.

Also, every picture I view from when I was a minor reveals that I was never as "fat" as I thought I was, even though I was definitely told I was fat from the time I was in junior high on up; and, obviously, now I realize that even if I'd been the giant tub I thought I was, that would have been fine and people shouldn't make anyone feel unworthy as a person because they aren't... whatever it is that people want people to look like in the moment.

I've mentioned that recently, it's hard to look at pictures of me as my body ages and changes. However, I've learned my lessons about this kind of thing. If I could have destroyed the above pictures in real time, I likely would have. My parents would have killed me, though, because they were irreplaceable and expensive. With the advent of digital photography, however, I've disposed of plenty of pictures, including one I regret to the extreme.

When we lived in Sherman, one morning D had gotten up super early when I was still in bed. We'd fallen back to sleep together, and Ken thought it was a cute little scene, so he took a picture with my camera. D was probably around 5 at the time, and it was a year or so into when I'd lost a substantial amount of weight.

I found the picture on my camera, though, and I HATED the way my jowls looked because of how I was lying. Without a second thought, I deleted the picture. I wish so much that I had it now. What a precious time.

A few years ago when a photographer friend of mine came to visit our "new" house, we walked to the lake, and she snapped a picture of Mal and me from below as we made our way down the rocks to the water line. That picture is SO unflattering of me. It's just bad. It's bad enough that I'm not sharing it here, because I still HATE that it makes me look like I'm 4 feet tall (I'm 5'6" or 7") and that I'm wearing rubber bands in several locations across my abdomen. It's very upsetting.

But because I'm getting smarter, I saved the picture. Someday, I'll probably love it. It's been three years and I still hate it, but some day...

Also, we don't have to dress or pose in ways that are "flattering." "Flattering" almost always means "makes you look skinnier," and it's a super dumb standard. I know this intellectually. I believe it spiritually. But that dissonance when you see a picture of yourself that isn't how you feel you are on any level is so distressing.

I get why people say, "I just feel better when I weigh a little less" (than what?). There were several years when I could easily look at pictures of myself and think, "Cute!" The first time that the "Ick, what?!" returned was in early 2012, when still weighed a lot less than I do now, and I'd fixed up for a formal event where they took professional portraits. Seeing the picture was devastating because I had felt so elegant and beautiful all night, then felt frumpy and "Well, you tried" after that.

In fact, I ran across this picture from this time 9 years ago (2011), when a friend and I visited Austin for the first time. Here's the picture I shared of our delicious stop at Taste of Ethiopia (same place, different location, as where James and I got take-out on 4th of July weekend this year!).

I had cropped it a bit to "get rid of the white space," but the real reason I cropped it is that I didn't like the "bulges" at my general belly area.

HA! Bulges. Man. What a waste of energy and self-hate.

But the cure for this wasn't to lose MORE weight, because no matter how much weight I lost, I still felt like I was bigger than the average person, and it was a constant battle to stay that size. I thought I was doing the hard stuff, working out all of the time and carefully monitoring what I put in my mouth. Truth is, the much harder work is figuring out why an image of yourself can make you mad at yourself and generate self-loathing.

Excising fatphobia is an ongoing work, but it has made me healthier and happier and better able to be present for my family. I'm still working on being able to truly appreciate pictures of myself. I think that's probably even a little bit better than thinking, "Whoo, I'm hot sh!t!" because I've acted in very self-absorbed ways when I felt like this.

Also, know that you're the only one examining your pictures as critically as you are (unless you're a social media influencer or celebrity, and I can't imagine the BS that comes with that; people really feel entitled to notice and remark on EVERYTHING then). Never delete pictures! And don't let your happiness or self-worth hinge on your captured appearance. The way you feel is the true you. Be that guy.

A Day in the Life, Hour by Hour

This morning, I thought it'd be fun to take a picture every hour on the hour during my day. Which worked at 7 and 8. But then I lost track of time, so at 9:18, it changed it to taking a picture during each hour of the day. And then I took the 1 o'clock picture at exactly 2 o'clock and decided that we weren't going to be hugely legalistic about this. I took a picture roughly every hour out of my day. I think it was a pretty typical day. Let's get going, shall we?

7:00 AM on the patio. James was out the door fast, so I didn't even have time to make hum breakfast (but I did make him coffee; that's important!).

8:00 AM outside Mal's window. The rabbits have more than doubled in size since we moved in!

During the 9 o'clock hour, we played at Windmill Run Park while it was still mild (but too humid for me to say "cool" because I was sweaty), and we might have witnessed a drug deal while we played in the van for a few minutes as I was procrastinating putting Mal into the carseat against his will.

10 o'clock hour, and we're on our way home from H-E-B. I was going to take a picture inside the store, but apparently my darling son had shoved my camera up under my seat during the aforementioned play session.

11 is an early nap for the guy on the left, but he's been feeling puny for several days. The guy on the right sleeps most of the time, so no bigs.

Noontime. Post-vacuuming. Carol hates it when I vacuum. Or when the landscapers come. This is her safe place.

Late in the 1 PM timeframe: Play time! Thomas looks a bit surprised to see Raggedy Ann.

2 o'clock hour brings a visit to the clubhouse on the walk home from the mail box. Even though I went to the store for two things, I forgot one of them: caffeine! I just got one 20-ouncer for my morning tomorrow, because I'm getting out at about 10 and will pick up some more after my activity.

3 M&Ms at 3 PM. I put them up on his slide platform to occupy him while I did a couple of things in the kitchen. He grabbed one, did this baby crack move, enjoyed it, and then repeated with each subsequent candy. This is the final piece.

4 PM and a stack of M&M "less unhealthy" brownies I made. The second thing I'd gone to the store to get, I also forgot: Brownie mix. But I was certain I could make brownies out of Bisquick. When no recipe showed up on the internet, I winged it. I used a can of pumpkin puree, 6 tablespoons of cocoa, and the rest of the Bisquick (enough to make a thicky cookie-like dough). Then I added one egg, which made it thick brownie batter consistency. I tasted it, and it tasted like biscuits, so I added 6 tablespoons of sugar. Not enough. I added 6 more, for 12 total tablespoons, and that was perfect, given that I also planned to add a cup or so of M&Ms. I spread the whole thing in a 9 x 12 pan, sprinkled turbinado sugar and M&Ms on top, and baked at 350 for 30 minutes. Very good. Low fat. We all liked them.

It's 5 o'clock. Do you know where your children are? I do. Daphne and I are listening to "Armada" by Ernest Cline, and Mal is crawling around fussing, mostly.

6 o'clock, when I answer my question: Can you make steamed dumplings in a rice cooker? Yes, you can. I couldn't find a recipe for what I wanted to do, either, so I made one up. I melted 4 tablespoons of pork fat (from having cooked a roast) in a pan, and grated one cucumber into it. I liberally sprinkled onion and garlic powders. After that got mushy, I added one pound of ground turkey. I cooked it until it released its juices and got pretty watery, then added 2 tablespoons of mint, torn into bits, some soy sauce, and some Worchestershire sauce. Then I cooked it until all of the liquid evaporated and I had a nice dry meat mixture. Then I took some left-over Pillsbury pizza dough, tore it into bits to make balls/flattened into disks, put a heaping tablespoon of meat in the center, pinched the ends, rolled it into a ball again, and cooked over water in the rice cooker for 20-30 minutes. So good.

7 o'clock, when hope springs eternal.

8 PM: Daddy's home!

9 PM, Mal does a final sweep to make sure everything's clean before heading (unwillingly) to bed.

Night, friends!

SXSW meets Daylight Savings Time meets an unfortunately-timed nap

Yesterday, I had been very sleepy so ended up napping at 4:00 PM, intending to be asleep for 20 minutes and instead konking out for two hours. James didn't get home until about 8:00, so we finished dinner shortly before 9:00.

James and Daphne both had things to do, but I felt sleepy and didn't want to try to go to bed yet, so I decided to walk. Daphne needed me to pick up a couple of things from CVS, anyway, so I strapped on my backpack and took off.

I always take my camera with me, just in case, but had not planned necessarily to try to put together any kind of blog post... Until I saw this. I'm pretty sure it's new.

The Hotel Ella has a gorgeous red-accented chandelier. In a tree.

It almost makes me want to try something of this ilk, except: 1) we don't have a deterrent fence and 2) that's way too fancy for the Nuthaus.

On the other end of the "fancy" spectrum is student co-op housing. A couple of weekends ago, all of the co-ops seemed to be having spring clean-up. I don't think I've ever seen the yard this tidy.

Also, last time we walked past, there was a large decapitated baby doll's head on the see-saw. It was morbidly funny, and I wish is were there... but it'd still be pretty cool to have a see-saw in the front yard. Actually, this *is* something we could cobble together and that would go perfect with our flamingo decor.

I'd say that this is ornamental lighting, but they obviously don't need it, so it's just ornamental. :)

Most of the trucks from the Rancho Rio eatery are gone for SXSW, but they're still all lit up and there were a couple of couples eating a late dinner.

Graffiti on the corner of The Old Grocery Store apartment building. I love this building; almost everything else in the area is new construction student housing, and this building looks like it could be in some down-on-its-luck 1940s European small town sreet.

As much as I have zero need for a water pipe, I think they're awfully pretty. Just like every time I see a prettily-arranged and well-lit bar, I long to collect liquor for display.

This is outside of a church and when they put out the sandwich board sign last year, it made me giggle. This is located right behind a bus stop, and hundreds of people (maybe thousands; I haven't researched it) walk past it every day. It's cool that the church decided to try to inspire people by writing something encouraging to meditate on every day. But they don't exactly trust us. The board is securely chained to a wrought-iron fence. 

I happened to reach CVS precisely as the employee was turning the lock at 10:00 PM... so I guess it's not open 24 hours. Oh well. The walk was totally worth it.

As I was watching the guy lock the door, an inebriated gentleman sitting under the awning called out to me.

Man: Hey, woman. You're a woman.

Me: I am. Thanks for noticing.

Man: I'm a man. And I'm gay. And I have more boyfriends than you'll ever have.

Me: You're probably right. I am not popular with the dudes.

Man: What I've got going for me is, well, right now, I have a cute butt.

Me: You must be very proud.

Right then, three college guys walked by, and he started talking to them, but I don't think they were interested in his admiration. Every time a street person (which I say because I don't know whether some of them are technically homeless; this guy didn't have all of the encumberments most homeless people have; I think he might have just settled in to sit off his buzz) and they try to engage me, even if they're asking for help and I can't do anything for them, I try at least to make eye contact and talk.

There's a scene in "The Fisher King" where this homeless guy is sitting with a change cup in a subway station, and people are walking by dropping coins into his cup. Jeff Bridges' character is sitting with him and comments that no one even makes eye contact with him. The homeless man says something to the effect of, "They give me money so they don't have to. I'm like this great warning for them to keep doing what they're doing or else they could end up like me..." Then he goes on to explain that any time they feel like ramming a stapler into their boss's head, all they have to do is think of this homeless guy begging for money, and that's their warning to abort their mission and go about kissing the boss's butt.

I want people to know that I see them as people. Not as scenery or "them" or that I don't see them at all. Besides, most of the time, interactions with random people tend to be either entertaining or heart-warming.

In case I haven't mentioned this, I *love* our neighborhood. I was thinking as I was walking last night that when I used to live in the suburbs, I would sometimes feel nervous walking later in the evening. I don't feel that way at all around here. There are just too many people, and everything is well-lit. I wouldn't walk alone at 2:00 AM, but that's largely because I'm not such a night owl.

We got official word of our lease renewal a couple of days ago, so we're looking forward to at least another year at the Nuthaus! 

The Greatest Mother's Day So Far!

Yesterday morning, I woke up and got up early, as my back dictates. However, I didn't fix breakfast like I usually do. Yesterday, I showered and read the paper (The Onion, of course) and took my time getting ready.

Meanwhile, James and Daphne got up and got to work. They made me delicious cinnamon roll pancakes, but I had as much fun watching and listening to them work as I did eating the pancakes.

Daphne and I went to church, and when we got home, we were all still pretty stuffed from our decadent breakfast!

James and I played a game of Boggle, then we both settled in to read a while as Daphne played Minecraft and Skyped with her cousin and friends. I might have dozed off while I was reading. At least until Rudy ruined my nap by trying to snuggle with me, since part of his snuggling involves claws.

A bit after 2, James and I walked to the nearest P. Terry's at my request. He's not had their burgers yet, and we enjoyed a late lunch on their patio. I wish Daphne had come with us because they had a cool little sandbox, and my hope is that she's not too cool to enjoy that kind of thing.

Coming back, James mentioned frozen yogurt and I remembered that TCBY had a "moms get free yogurt" thing going, so we texted Daphne and had her meet us at a nearby landmark that was on both of our ways toward TCBY.

It was fun to see several generations of moms and daughters while we were there, plus we had some fun with optical illusions.

James and I had walked a little bit over 3.5 miles, and this feels so good, spinally-speaking.

When we got home, we all did our own things for a bit, then I had a Whataburger shop that I remembered 10 minutes before the dinner window closed, so Daphne and I ran out for that. Fortunately, we live close to *everything* and got there in time to do the shop.

I enjoyed getting to hang out with both my husband and my daughter separately and together yesterday. It was a fabulous Mother's Day, and I am so blessed.

By the way, in case you're wondering about the cone hats, here's a clue you won't find anywhere else but here!